


Like An Opera

by sambharsobs



Series: Edelthea Week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Romance, edie talks about revolution and thea wants to peg her more with each word, too many references to opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambharsobs/pseuds/sambharsobs
Summary: Garreg Mach was a lot like the opera, thought Dorothea.Characters were larger-than-life in the opera by demand, Manuela used to say. Blood that looked suspiciously like bright red paint, tears that looked suspiciously exaggerated, and villains that looked suspiciously…well, suspicious. The stage elevated the performers literally and metaphorically, their roles.Well, all this was true, except for that Edelgard was tiny.--Edelthea Week Day 1: 'Fun'
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Series: Edelthea Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619980
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	Like An Opera

Garreg Mach was a lot like the opera, thought Dorothea.

A grandiose set is a must, of course, and the monastery was nothing short of massive. The knights she went out with would spend most of the date complaining about patrol duty, leaving her mind as numb as they claimed their feet were. Gilded doors and exquisite wood-carved windows were replaced on the Mittlefrank stage with carved paper-mache dipped in golden paint and scrap bits of wood from a construction site nearby. And of course, a hyper-realistic statue in the chapel at least ten times the size of even the tallest head that bowed down before it in prayer. She knew that very well – the show poster _had_ read 'The Mystical Songstress as Saint Serios in ‘ _La Bellum Santus_ ’, after all.

Her favourite part of the opera had come back to haunt her in Garreg Mach Monastery. Dorothea had no illusions of finally being free from seeing another noble again when she walked through the gates of Garreg Mach – far the opposite, in fact. They crawled all over the monastery, filling the air with the sounds of affected laughter and clink of china worth more than she could imagine. Whimsically vain, brutally miserly and vengefully cutthroat – be it the older nobles who patronised her performances or their younger counterparts who patronised her social status, they were all the same mix of insufferable, infuriating and idiotic. She had nearly given up her search for the exception to the rule.

Ah, but that was where the grand _heldin_ of the opera came in.

Characters in the opera were larger-than-life by demand, Manuela used to say. Dorothea had to admit that subtlety was a lost cause when covered in drapes that extended well beyond her figure and enough blush to repaint a small house. Blood that looked suspiciously like bright red paint, tears that looked suspiciously exaggerated, and villains that looked suspiciously…well, suspicious. The stage elevated the performers literally and metaphorically, their roles.

Well, all this was true, except for that Edelgard was tiny.

The first time she met her, Dorothea was taken aback – she veritably loomed over the Adrestian heir, who wore delicate little bows on either side of her round face. Was _this_ silver-haired maiden to be her house leader, and later, her Emperor and liege?

Then Edelgard began to speak, and Dorothea felt a jolt down her spine.

Heroes in operas tend to wax philosophical on good days and waste twenty extra minutes ad-libbing a half-page score on bad ones. While the ones in comedies were caricatures of their more tragic counterparts, one thread remained true throughout. They would go front and centre, all the way to the edge of the stage, and proceed to sing – songs of a future that seems too improbable to be true, songs of a future too idealistic to be real, songs of a future where people were too equal to be unified.

Looking at Edelgard, she is reminded of those heroes.

Had the same words come from any other noble – why look too far when darling Ferdinand was always buzzing and bothering about – Dorothea would have heard, seen or witnessed the insincerity behind them. No, what had her latching onto the carefully-measured words from the deceptively-strong girl was the way lavender eyes blazed with intensity and intent.

But Dorothea was no longer a starry-eyed cover to a prima donna. Enough nobles had whispered honeyed words and sickly-sweet promises for her to learn that when those didn’t work, they’d throw money or hired swords at her in hopes of getting their way. She knew an act when she saw one.

But she soon realised that those eyes were always searching, always gauging, always judging. When Dorothea had let loose a crackle of lighting that reduced a practice dummy into a smouldering pile of ash, she had felt that lilac gaze follow her out of the practice grounds, burning up her skin. There had been whispered words to her brooding shadow, and Dorothea found herself with an invite for tea.

“Why, this is truly an honour, Your Highness.” The drawl in her voice was unmistakable – saved only for the most pompous nobles to barge through her dressing-room door without invitation. “The heir to the Adrestian Empire having tea with a mere commoner – why, what would the nobles think?”

Edelgard’s frown was sharper than the massive axe she swung about with ease. “What they thinks matters not to me. I invited you here to speak with you – as a classmate, and not as the Imperial Princess,” she said curtly.

Leaning her elbows on the table, Dorothea clasped her hands under her chin. “Is that so? And what would we talk about?” Before Edelgard could expand, Dorothea cut her off. “Perhaps we could speak about Professor Gilliam – the poor dear apparently got chased around the stables by one of the horses. He’s easily scared off, isn’t he?”

Stunned at being derailed so quickly, Edelgard did a good job of recovering, shaking her head as she did so. “Honestly, I would have preferred if we had gotten Professor Manuela or Professor Hanneman to guide us. Both are skilled teachers, having taught at the Academy for years now. Their tutelage would help the Black Eagle House, as well as the Empire, soar to greater heights,” she said, resting her hand on the white tablecloth.

Dorothea brought her teacup up to her lips, and regarded the princess over its brim. “The House and the Empire, huh?” she said, and took a sip. Pale eyes followed the movement of her throat, before snapping up to meet her eyes again.

“Yes. We need all the guidance we can get within this academic year. The children of many high-ranking nobles are our classmates, and soon, we shall be taking over our respective titles. It is my hope that I will be well-equipped to bring in a new dawn to the Empire,” she said, and suddenly, the fire in her eyes became all-consuming. “One where nobody would hold a higher rank than another based on their bloodline. One where Crests are no longer heralded as the bringers of fortune and power. One where people carve a path on their merit, not their birth.”

There it was – the soliloquy that had audiences roaring and thunderous applause echoing off rounded ceilings. Dorothea tried to quell the pounding in her chest. Fingers trembling around a cup with the Princess’ favourite tea, she swallowed against a dryness in her throat she hadn’t felt since the first time a spotlight shone on her.

“Oh my,” Dorothea hated how small she sounded, how suddenly the carpet was pulled from under her feet. “That sounds lovely, Your Highness, but were would a commoner like me fit in?”

Her gaze tempered, now akin to a warm bedside hearth than the apocalyptic flames that engulfed Dorothea earlier. “The world I imagine has people leading it who possess the skill and talent for it. Your prowess with magic most certainly fits that requirement, not to mention of your resilience in making it to this Academy despite being a commoner. I cannot do it alone.”

The fire in her eyes had mellowed, but a raging storm had lodged into Dorothea’s chest.

“And please, Dorothea, you needn’t refer to me as ‘Your Highness’. We are friends.”

Be it grovelling and begging for scraps in the soiled streets of Enbarr or blinding darkened-out audiences with a glittering performance, Dorothea Arnault knew she could make the best of any situation. Looking at the determination in the woman before her, she knew that whatever it was that this little princess had in mind for her would wrap her up and take her through a journey worthy of the grandest of grand operas.

She would do well to make the best of this situation, too.

“Then consider me on board with your future. As for the friend part, well, that’s really sweet of you-” Dorothea reached over and touched the gloved fist on the table, meeting the flames with a passion she hoped could match it. “- _Edie_.”

Her jaw dropped, and fingers went limp. From somewhere behind, the sound of Hubert dissolving into a bout of coughing filled the air. A pink blush travelled from the apples of her cheeks down to her high collar, and at Dorothea’s giggle and coo, a splutter erupted from her lips. Conversation now derailed, Dorothea noted with some satisfaction how Edie’s eyes lurched across her features desperately before being torn away to look at the cup before her.

 _Well then,_ thought Dorothea. _This might be fun after all._

**Author's Note:**

> the second the game came out i was consumed by one question . how did the nickname 'edie' come to exist . and thus, the answer was born from my garbage mind
> 
> forgive all the incorrect opera stuff im sorry. also gilliam is my hc of the teacher who ran off when the bandits attacked in the prologue


End file.
